A Tough Decision for Spencer Reid
by Fitegirl
Summary: This is basically just a random mini story I came up with a few minutes ago...pretty stupid, but I love Reid. I put some of my personality into it, as well as Reid's, so PLEASE R&R!


A Tough Decision for Spencer Reid

I had never run away from home before.

Yes, I had considered it many times. Yes, I had contacts, clothing, necessities, everything I needed to survive. Except for my mother.

She and I were the best of friends, and we had gradually grown closer over the years because of the hurt we had experienced together. It was the hurt brought on by a man who was never worthy to be called her husband, much less my father. And it was this hurt that had finally pushed me over the edge and out of my own house.

I had left a note for my mother, telling her not to worry about me. I explained that I just needed to get away from him for a while…away from everything. I told her I would come back eventually. But leaving her didn't take the pain away.

As I continued to journey further and further away from her, tears streaming down my face, I grew tired from my silent sobbing. I finally collapsed on the sidewalk and laid myself against my duffel bag. Sitting by the road, I was trying to somewhat enjoy the view of the setting afternoon sun when a complete stranger came up to me. He was rather handsome for the state he was in, what with his mangy, matted hair and dirty skin. It was obvious he hadn't cleaned up for days. And even though I was on my own with next to nothing, something inside me felt like I should help this poor man…something like pity, a feeling completely foreign to me. And I probably would have—if it hadn't been for the crimson, bloodied knife he clutched in his mangled right hand.

He didn't move. Neither did I.

Then he gave a slight grunt, still not taking his cold, grey eyes off of mine. "I'm in trouble."

_Of course he is_, I thought, frozen in fear. _He's a murderer._

The man moved closer to me, and I knew I had to run. But then he pulled up his right sleeve and showed me his forearm. There were deep, wet, crimson gashes engraved into his filthy skin. I cringed in terror and felt a strong sense of nausea quickly rising into my throat.

He continued to stare at me, unblinking. "Can't stop," he said in a grave tone. He was asking me for help.

How could I help him when I couldn't even heal my own wounds? I knew he would die if I didn't do something fast. I slowly began to reach into my pocket for my cell phone to call 911, but suddenly his sorrow turned to angry paranoia when he grabbed my hand to stop me.

I tried to explain, "I…I want to…help you. Please." But his expression did not change. Again, I attempted to pull his hand away to get to my phone, but I realized this was a huge mistake. He anger quickly transformed into violence as he tackled me to the ground and warned me, grinding his brown, stained teeth, "I can't stop it. The voices…they sound like _you_. I need to stop them…" He was not in his right mind. How could I manage to escape alive?

And then, before I knew what was happening, he lunged for my hand again with the knife and sliced my wrist open. As I cried out in pain, I felt him release his grip. He staggered away from me in sheer panic, unaware of what he had done. I heard him muttering fearful nonsense to himself, and then he ran away as a small car rounded the corner of the street. Then everything went dark.

_break_

Spencer Reid was trying his best to console the mother of the victim as the ambulance arrived to take her daughter to the hospital. He was never very good with words of comfort. After all, he was grateful the mother had arrived at the scene when she did, because she had finally caught the psychopathic serial killer they had been searching for by simply looking out for her child. But he couldn't explain this to her. Understandably, all she wanted to know was if her daughter was going to be all right.

"I'm sure she'll be fine," he tried with some uncertainty.

She sniffed. "Why would someone hurt an innocent little girl—_my_ little girl?"

He opened his mouth to give a blunt, logical explanation from a profiler's perspective of the crime scene, but he stopped himself short. "Ma'am, I know this is a difficult time for you, but could I ask you a couple of questions?"

The mother slowly nodded. Reid cautiously went on, "Why did you come looking for your daughter? I mean…why wasn't she with you?"

"It was her father." Her voice was flat as she spoke. "He drove her away from me." There was a long pause, then: "I just hope that…if she doesn't make it…I hope she knows."

"Knows what?" he asked in a gentle tone.

She looked at him with an agonizing gaze. "That I love her."

_break_

The team at the BAU was relieved to hear the teenage girl turned out just fine. She and her mother left their house and moved hours away from the man who had caused them so much grief and despair. But those few simple words Reid had exchanged with the mother never left his mind.

He would always write to his mother and tell her about his daily activities. But his conscience would continue to ache incessantly. It was easier to send letters without a response than to talk to or visit a schizophrenic. But what if something were to happen to her? Or to him? What would she think of him?

His friends were packing up and leaving for home. Morgan offered to give him a ride, but he reluctantly declined. That was another open door, an easy way out. But he knew he couldn't avoid it any longer.

Once every desk was empty and every light was extinguished, save for his own, Reid sat in his swivel chair and pondered his decision. It scared him. It relieved him. And it was the only answer that made sense to him.

Mustering all the courage in his heart, Reid picked up the phone and dialed. The ringing went on for several seconds, adding all the more tension and anxiety to the situation. He was actually about to hang up when he heard someone on the other line. He swallowed hard then requested a name. The waiting continued, and finally, a voice he could recognize from throughout the entirety of his childhood. A voice he would never forget.

The corners of his mouth slowly curved into a relaxed smile. "Hi, Mom….There was something I needed to tell you."

THE END--aren't you happy?


End file.
